PEARLS

IF I am to DIE this fine day, what can I say about it?

Have I said everything I wanted to say, expressed what I felt and left no
stone unturned here with you, my friends and enemy alike,
in order to unfold what MAY be unfolded?

Is the world a better place as a result of my journey through it?
Or have I squandered and stolen, moments, in time,
not noticing or caring for the pearls I have been given
that I MAY polish them with my BREATH and my humble sleeve?

How many pearls have I worked on to maximum effect?
Such, that my own reflection shines OUT like a beam of light
that the whole world knows I have done what I could,
and not shivered and skulked where I stood.

Have I gazed DEEP into such marvels,
and seen ALL reflected like an infinite jumble of colour and rays?
Each somehow unique,
and yet sharing an inner beauty of wonder AND rage.
At a world so imbued with EVERY possible permutation.
Built in, and yet so much yet to see, to seek, to free from each pearl.
To eat, like so many delectable dishes.
And yet some not so palatable.
For one may choke, as one frees the true taste from head to feet.
From warm to weak.
From all that there IS en-cased in one moment,
may NOT be what it seems.
And one moment can NEVER be free from another.

But one must act as IF it were SO.
For who am I, to SAY how each pearl begets another,
and into what part does each fit?
So let me do what I may with each as I can.

For to live as we do, or to die as we move. What can I say?

Have I done enough?
Have I said enough?
And what did I say?
Was it careful and light?
A parchment delight?
Or a bluff and a blunder?
An arrogant thunder?
Or a scare-full sunder?
A blue-filled trumpet of bullets and brace?
Or a delicate yearning of yellow stone grace?

Did I walk with steps of silk as I sought out each hand hold,
each foot hold, in a cave or a mountain?
Traversing a lake, in BLINDING sunshine, or in a CLEAR sooty mist.
Shivering with fright, not knowing the way,
falling and scraping, shouting loudly in dismay.
Or in clouds and de-stationed,
sweating with fever and curled up like a beast.
A whisper, barely, passes my lips.

Each STEP a silky embrace.
A clinging web and a slippery target.
A joy and disgrace.
Nothing to live for,
But ALL to my TASTE.

For I wanted to try ALL that I could,
But eat ONLY, that, which I should.

I cannot SAY that I have not at times gorged where I should FAST.
Nor indeed LAST where I should simply BEGIN but gone PAST.

But it was MY supper and I ate, drank and supped on many a wine,
ale and dish for which I could NEVER have asked for more.
Although I admit that at times I asked both less and amore.

Silly when I look back and see it was just ME
that had the courses mixed up.

Touched lightly, I have learned not to HANG.
For everything I did, was to LEARN to belong.
Right, WRONG, safely said, un-earthly PRANKS.
Learned, DONE, UN-done! Added, subtracted,
divided and multiplied IN song!

And if I am to go now, what shall be the manner of my passing?
How would I choose it, if it WERE mine to choose?
For I know that it is NOT.
Should I dance on my own grave,
and shout whoops to the treetops?
Sometimes belting out a number of hilarious funder?
Sometimes doubled up with a belly ache
and whispering to the delicate lawn
my tears of glorious doubt and har-bringer passion?

Or shall I STAND defiant in the SHADE of my death!?
Head high. Shoulders back, and shouting at and WITH,
my dearest CLOSEST brother.
With a GLINT in my eye, a HAND on my hip,
and a ready SONG to sing, what, ever, HE may bring!

Are you SURE, should I say?
Is it really NOW, that YOU have come my way?

For SURE, what SHALL I say?

Am I DONE?
Have I used myself UP?
Is there MORE I could say?

In TRUTH, how CAN I argue with my dearest CLOSEST brother?
If you SAY, my friend, my DEAR, old, FRIEND.
My life-long companion.
My referee and trust-worthy judge.
The one who NEVER left me to die of all others.
The one who guided me and cajoled me.
Whom I could always ask,
Whatever, and however, almighty, the task.

If YOU say, then HERE, take me now.
But know that I do NOT go gladly.
But know that I do not step through this circle sadly.
For if YOU say, then I say.
And in any case I KNOW it!

If I really HAD one more things to say,
Another deed to slay.

Well, I'd be a FOOL!

For such PEARLS as these are not CAST in time,
but they ARISE in time,
and, return from whence they came.
As I must, in MY time.

With LOVE,

A Bard of the Setting Sun